


Wrong Door

by all-i-need-is-destiel (Aleakim)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drunken Mistakes, Fluff, M/M, POV Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6874702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleakim/pseuds/all-i-need-is-destiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up hungover right beside Castiel and can’t remember what happened the night before. But that’s seriously just the least of his problems.</p><p>_</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Door

**Author's Note:**

> I read this prompt somewhere and just loved it ;D
> 
> _

It’s never nice to wake up with the worst hangover ever.

And it’s certainly isn’t great when you realize – after some groaning and cursing and a lot more groaning – that you spent the night in an unfamiliar bed.

Dean closes his eyes again, fighting the growing nausea and praying that he’s just dreaming or something. Picturing himself lying in a bed with flowery sheets in a room filled with  the ugliest furniture in existence – and he’s usually not that picky so this is saying something – and sporting some stupid hangover that will probably kill his brain by the end of the day.

But when he opens his eyes again all his hopes are crushed mercilessly.

 _Dammit_!

“Good morning, Dean.”

The unexpected voice near his ear makes Dean yelp like a startled toddler and for about a second he’s convinced that his heart would explode into a hideous and bloody mess no one would ever be able to clean.

“Um …” Dean bites his bottom lip before he turn his head toward the guy right next to him. “Hey, Cas.”

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

How the hell did that happen?

In his early years he never missed an opportunity to get majorly drunk with his friends, celebrating and flirting like a man on a mission. But since he hit thirty he cut down because it’s all fun and games in your youth but kinda pathetic when all of your old buddies talk about responsibilities and steady relationships and you’re turning into a relict from a time long ago.

So Dean got his shit together and tried to be the grown-up everyone thought he was.

But yesterday, at Benny’s birthday party, he forgot himself again.

He had been calm and collected for the first two hours until Castiel approached him with a shy smile and the bluest eyes in existence and that tousled sex-hair and those form fitting jeans and that gravelly voice that made Dean shiver in an instant …

Dean was just fucking lost.

It’s always been easy for him to flirt with women. He knows what to say, how to smile. But with guys he tends to get flustered and awkward like a teenager with a crush.

So he started to down one shot after another, hoping to find some confidence buried deep inside himself. And he remembers vaguely how at one point they started some kind of flowing conversation, talking for minutes or even hours and not giving a damn about all the other people. Dean loved every second of it and he couldn’t take his eyes off of Castiel the whole night.

And then … well.

Dean really hates himself right now. Castiel is the first in a very long time who made his insides tingle without any effort and _of course_ Dean managed to screw this up big time. Drunken hookups aren’t exactly fairy tale material.

He tries to prop himself up and regrets it immediately. His head starts to spin and for a moment he fears that he’d puke right on the spot, destroying the last bit of chance he might still have with Castiel.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asks concerned. He rises from the bed and he seems a little wobbly as well but he’s able to come to Dean’s side without any accident.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean assures quickly. “Just … y'know, hungover.”

Castiel nods understandingly. “I know what you mean.”

“So …” Dean starts to fidget, feeling very uncomfortable considering Castiel’s proximity and the obvious fact that _they spent the goddamned night together in the same bed_!

“You’re worried something sexual happened last night, right?” Castiel says matter-of-factly. “I can promise you that’s not the case.”

Dean blinks a few times before finally a strong wave of relief washes over him.

Maybe he didn’t fuck _everything_ up for a change.

“That’s … that’s good,” he mutters, sighing deeply. “I mean, not that it’d be bad – with you … y'know. It wouldn’t have been a hardship or whatever since you’re … well, you’re easy on the eyes and – well, it’s just all the alcohol and stuff …”

Great, now he’s rambling again.

Suddenly he recalls quite vividly why he decided to drink in the first place.

But fortunately Castiel seems rather amused. “I can assure you, nothing inappropriate happened. Although my memory is a little bit fuzzy as well, I wouldn’t have forgotten … well, _that_.” He smiles coyly, an adorable light blush appearing on his cheeks. “I just wanted to accompany you home since you were quite intoxicated and then you asked for a bedtime story …” The flush intensifies and Dean feels something warm pressing within his chest at this sight. “And somehow I fell asleep next to you.”

Dean can’t help feeling giddy and grinning like a lunatic.

“What bedtime story did you tell me?” he asks.

Castiel ducks his head. “I’m not very creative,” he admits. “And I actually can’t really remember. Something about angels and humans, I think. And pie.”

“Pie?”

Castiel chuckles. “You insisted on pie.”

Well, that honestly sounds like him – Dean Winchester, devoted pie-enthusiast.

Carefully he climbs out of bed, thanking God when he manages to stay somewhat dignified. At least he doesn’t lose his balance or throws up on Castiel’s feet so that’s seriously a win.

“Um … do you maybe have some aspirin lying around here?” he asks. “My head is fucking killing me!”

Castiel narrows his eyes, his expression puzzled. “Why are you asking me that?”

Dean hesitates. It’s an easy enough question, isn’t it? “Uh … I just thought … well, I don’t carry some aspirin around and since this is your place –”

“It is not,” Castiel interrupts him immediately.

Dean blinks.

What?

“What?”

“This isn’t my house,” Castiel explains, still looking utterly confused. “I assumed it was yours.”

Due to his very tired brain Dean needs a few moments to wrap his mind around Castiel’s words. “So … it’s not yours?”

Castiel shakes his head vigorously. “ _You_ were the one who led me here last night. And _you_ opened the door.”

Dean stares at Castiel motionlessly before it finally clicks. With wide eyes he takes a look around – the pictures on the wall of a family he’s never seen before; some toys on the floor – and rushes toward the window. He recognizes the street – it’s actually not that far from Benny’s – and his heart starts to race.

Fuck!

 _Fuck_!

“We … I …” Dean begins to stutter, not sure what to say. Sorry for apparently turning you into a burglar without your knowledge?

“So we are in some stranger’s home?” Castiel asks and his voice sounds surprisingly calm considering the circumstances. “But you opened the door, I saw it! Admittedly you were fumbling a little bit so it took some time but …”

Dean avoids his questioning gaze. “Um … I can  pick locks?”

Castiel lifts an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“It’s just a party trick, okay?” Dean defends himself. “I’ve never … I never meant to _break in_ somewhere!”

And he actually thought that he wouldn’t be able to use that special skill while drunk off his ass but obviously wonders never cease.

“So … we broke in?” Slowly the realization catches up with Castiel as well. “But … I used the bathroom. And I ate a sandwich about half an hour ago because I was hungry and you were still asleep.”

Part of Dean wants to ask, _“And you came back into bed with me afterwards?”_ with a very bright smile but he refrains from doing that since there are more important things to worry about right now. Like not ending up in jail, for example.

So he says instead, “We need to go. _Now_!”

Castiel frowns. “I don’t feel very comfortable leaving like that. They will know that someone was in their home. Maybe we could just stay and explain ourselves? It was only a drunken mistake after all.”

Dean snorts. “They will call the cops, that’s for sure. I’d do the same.” He sighs. “Look, leave twenty bucks on the kitchen counter or send them a freaking apology letter. I don’t care. Just – let’s go!”

And without waiting for further protest he slips inside his shoes, grabs Castiel’s hand and pulls him out of the room. Castiel mumbles something inaudible under his breath but doesn’t put up a fight.

Downstairs Dean takes a tentative look around, half expecting one of the owners popping up out of nowhere or even some cops with drawn weapons. His heart beats thousand miles a minute and the only thing that quietens him down a bit is the calming presence by his side. Castiel squeezes his hand, his face serene as if it’s an everyday occurrence for him to be inside some stranger’s house.

Thankfully it seems that the owners haven’t returned yet, wherever the hell they may be. Thinking about the fact that no one was home all night it might be logical to assume they’re on vacation or at least out of town for a few days. Dean probably chose this house deliberately because there had been no car in the driveway.

Or he’d just been lucky.

Since Dean isn’t known for making elaborate decisions when drunk.

He exhales relieved when they finally reach the front door but before he’s able to touch the doorknob Castiel suddenly clutches his collar and pushes him against a nearby wall, pressing himself closer to Dean’s body.

Holy crap!

Dean’s heart is about to jump out of his chest and he totally forgets how to use his lungs, making himself dizzy. He feels Castiel’s body heat, his breath on his skin and for a moment Dean is absolutely certain that Castiel will lean in and kiss him fucking senseless.

And Dean is _completely_ okay with that.

But instead of starting a heavy and really hot make-out session Castiel says, “The mailman is outside.”

Dean narrows his eyes, staring at Castiel bewildered.

“He most likely knows the owners,” Castiel continues. “I wouldn’t recommend to let him see us leaving this building.”

“Uh … right,” Dean agrees although his brain stopped working entirely and he’s got no real clue what the man in front of him is talking about.

They stay hidden and motionless for about five minutes and they’re the longest, most amazing and most gut-wrenching five minutes of Dean’s life. Castiel doesn’t seem to have any concept of personal space, even pressing himself closer though it’s not strictly necessary, and Dean’s not sure he’ll be capable of surviving this.

But he sure as hell ain’t complaining.

At some point Castiel pulls back again, throws a hesitant look through the window and announces finally, “He seems to be gone.”

Before Dean’s got a chance to reply – although he’s not sure he’d been able to say anything more creative than “Um, okay” – Castiel takes his hand and pulls him out of the house. Dean follows him in a daze, not caring in the slightest where they’re even going. Castiel could be heading straight to the nearest police station and Dean still would have been grinning like an idiot.

After an eternity – or most likely a few minutes – Castiel finally starts to slow down.

“I’m quite positive that no one noticed us,” he tells Dean. “Although admittedly I am not an expert. I’ve never needed to sneak out of some stranger’s place before.”

He laughs quietly and interlaces his fingers with Dean’s, obviously not very keen to let him go anytime soon.

“Yeah, I’m very sorry about that.” Dean rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “That was a new one, even for me.”

Castiel smirks. “I feel honored to have shared this experience with you then. But next time I would prefer to commit no more crimes. Once a month is my limit.”

 _Next time_.

Well, that sounds really nice.

“I’ll try my best,” Dean answers and doesn’t give a damn that his smile is probably shining so brightly that it’s blinding Castiel right now. “I can’t promise you though.”

“There is a diner around the corner,” Castiel suddenly says. “One of my friends works there and she always carries a whole pharmacy around in her bag so she’ll probably have some aspirin for you. Furthermore I’m starving and I could really could use some pancakes.” He stares at Dean intently before adding, “If you want to, of course. Otherwise I could accompany you back home as I intended last night and –”

“Pancakes sound awesome, Cas,” Dean interrupts him, grinning widely. He’s still a little nauseous and he’ll keep his food plain and simple without any extras but the prospect of spending more time with Castiel is far too appealing to pass.

Castiel starts to beam and before Dean even knows what happening the guy is dropping a soft kiss on his cheek.

“You sang in your sleep, by the way,” Castiel informs him while watching proudly how the blush on Dean’s face is growing.

“Uh …”

“Let’s go,” Castiel urges. “I’m hungry.”

Dean follows him because there is really no reason not to. And he’s quite certain he’d follow this man ‘til the end of the world without hesitating.

 

*  *  *  *  *  *

 

Two days later Castiel prepares to send the owners a letter with fifty bucks, several coupons for a coffee shop and a toy store and on top of that the most heartfelt apology ever.

And Dean can’t keep himself from kissing Castiel’s kind smile and sliding a few extra dollars for a new and better door lock in the envelope as well.

**Author's Note:**

> You can visit me on [tumblr](http://all-i-need-is-destiel.tumblr.com) as well :)


End file.
